Aix-it!

LIZ SAYS:Passing the nuke plants and the wind farms on the way back to Paris back from Aix seems to sum up the French experience of the moment.
The mediocre wine and sandwich on the train add to the subpar ambiance.

Our memories of Aix were better than this experience. Aix, where Christophe Mae lives, did not celebrate him. That was a bummer. Lots of graffiti, bored farm kids and workers, I guess.

American tourists with southern accents talking loudly about the youth and their lack of wisdom, twitter is the death of young brains. All their folks died with dignity. Everyone else was doomed. What bullshit processes people? “Everyone else is stupid, I am the only perfect one”.

On Sunday, it started off great, spa for me, race for Dick, sun but chill in the air. I was chasing magpies. I love the look of those birds but they are the most camera shy animals I have ever encountered. They seem to know you want to photograph them, so they hide. Imagine birds that are aware of the human paparazzi!
I stalked them through the garden at the hotel. Dick came up with a great idea which I plan to pursue. The magpies in the manicured cypress tree tops. Top of the world, ma.
But then Monday was rainy tout jour (all day) and everything was closed. Europeans have the habit of taking Sunday and Monday off, because after all, they did work Saturday. Yeah, okay. So, it can be very hard to find a restaurant open on Sunday or Monday! Sacre bleu!
We found a mediocre pizza place with the most downbeat interior, it was what seems to be the future/retro look. Steel reclaimed and dark. For me it seemed very 80’s, but I guess that dates me. Black ceilings, dark gray brown walls, made of old metal. Real olde world charm.
Anyway, said the perpetual 39 year old, it was dismal interior but the pizza was fine for Dick. I was sub-satisfied with my pasta, the pizza was heavy with french cheese, so I was not interested in that either.
The rain which put Dick in a mega-negative mood. The Vasarely Foundation was closed. The outside of the building was fantastic, but it was locked ‘tighter than a tick’ as Dick said walking back to the car bizarrely named Picasso.

The apartment work has stopped, I assume, for the Polish tragedy, There was a plane crash and the president and his wife and other high officials died suddenly. Quite a shock to a nation, I’m sure.

But, we are back in the interim apartment which gets smaller everyday. Mainly because I keep finding nice things for great prices on eBay, and I’m working on two tables. Which leaves just enough room to get around the plants!
Its warmer and sunnier in Paris. It feels like home.